


After the Fall

by Immi



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Chapter Related, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immi/pseuds/Immi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up to chapter 47 of the manga. Ymir and Krista have words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Fall

**Author's Note:**

> If you aren't up to date on the manga, this story contains major SPOILERS. And probably won't make nearly as much sense.
> 
> And yes, this is such an optimistic outcome that it will probably set some kind of record for being struck down by canon.

Everything is hot.

After the shock of being inside a Titan's mouth settles to a faint panic, that's all Historia can think. The heat makes her body feel like it's melting.

That won't happen, though.

This isn't some random Titan; this is _Ymir_. Ymir won't hurt her. And if she wanted to, she wouldn't be doing it like this.

Bertolt put Ymir in his mouth, and Ymir is fine.

Ymir is _fine_.

She'll be fine too.

No matter how much she believes that, it's a hard thought to hold onto surrounded by teeth the size of her head. Then the roof of Ymir's mouth collapses down where she's sitting and wraps itself around her.

Historia's mind doesn't quite go blank. It tries to, but it doesn't. She holds onto the Maneuver Gear grips until her knuckles turn white and lets the flesh pull her upward, heat searing through her uniform. She keeps her eyes shut until the pulling stops.

When she opens them again, she's sitting next to Ymir.

A hysterical sob of laughter breaks out of her throat, and she drags herself closer to her friend. The air is stifling and sweat is drying off her face. Ymir's eyes are half-open and unfocused. Historia doesn't know if that's normal.

Tears are evaporating from her cheeks.

Historia's heart thuds painfully in her chest, and she looks down at the flesh Ymir's entrenched in.

She still has all of her blades left. Her Maneuver Gear is intact. Wherever they are… the fall won't be so bad that they'll die. Trembling, she attaches a blade and lifts it up to the tendrils connected to Ymir's face. She feels lightheaded.

She gives her head a shake and takes a deep breath.

Ymir saved her. Now she'll save Ymir.

* * *

Every once in a while Ymir wonders why shifting can't work like the old varúlfur stories—mutating instead popping brand new flesh out of nowhere. Sure, it would have made getting shredded to pieces more permanent, but getting ripped out of her Titan form is impossibly disorienting. It's like having two bodies at once, with neither one of them working worth a damn.

The disorientation doesn't last long this time, though.

Her focus is pretty immediately occupied by the body falling through the air.

Ymir can hear her skull crack against the ground. Something warm and bony crashes into her, driving the remaining air from her lungs. Coughing and gasping doesn't do much to bring it back.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"Ymir? Ymir!"

Head throbbing, she opens her human eyes. All she can see is a blur just bright enough to confirm that the stars flooding her vision aren't supposed to be there. Then the hiss of steam reaches her ears, and her vision sharpens.

Blue.

Krista.

 _Krista_.

Shit.

A blur comes up to brush her cheek. "Ymir?"

"Krista," Ymir rasps involuntarily. The warm fingers against her cheek press closer. Her eyes are stinging, and it only gets worse when she can see Krista properly. Tears are rolling down the girl's cheeks, and one of her shoulders looks like it's been wrenched from its socket.

She's lucky it's not anything worse. The broken quality of Ymir's back probably has a lot to do with why it isn't. Launching yourself off a perch some dozen meters from the ground with only a disappearing Titan corpse for an anchor isn't supposed to end well.

Ymir closes her eyes again because looking at Krista hurts more than the skull fracture. Pain is scorching her entire body. She's too dehydrated to make it go away. She'll settle for her brain not leaking out onto the grass.

She can feel the body digging into hers slowly twist away. Some of the screaming aches in her ribs calm down. Soft pressure envelopes her hand. A light breeze waves away the heat escaping her skull.

A whistle pierces the surrounding air, and Ymir's eyes snap back open.

Right. She forgot for a second.

This can't happen.

She can't move, she has no idea if it's even possible to go for the third transformation of the day like this, Reiner and Bertolt are too busy escaping to be any help, and Krista is holding her hand now and looking more beautiful than anything in this world has a right to, but this can't happen.

"What kind of prisoner," she says, "escapes with their kidnapper."

The hand on hers stiffens, but Krista keeps her eyes on the horizon, where there had better not be a horse coming to get them.

"What kind of kidnapper," Krista says, voice shaking, "cries after they get their target?"

Ymir keeps her mouth shut. The countless things she could mention about nonsensical kindness for people who don't deserve it really need to be said at full volume, and her ribs feel like they'll snap to pieces if she blinks wrong.

"Krista—"

"Historia." Krista looks down at Ymir. "I kept our promise."

She doesn't want to feel happy about that. It isn't helpful.

"Historia," Ymir says, "those two jackasses were your best shot."

Her vision's back to normal now, but she wishes to several gods that it weren't, because she gets a crystal clear view of the instant Krista figures out what she was up to. Those blue eyes of hers, so full of innocent compassion and panic just a moment ago, darken, and for a moment Ymir's back on the mountain, listening to Krista tell her to go ahead alone.

The grip around Ymir's hand tightens painfully. "At what?"

"At surviving." Ymir jerks her head in the direction she's starting to hear hoofbeats from. "Or do you really think their stunning ninety percent mortality rate is going to end well for—"

The fist of Krista's good arm rams against her jaw.

At first, the oddness of the sensation overrides the pain—Krista's always been too short to land a decent hook. Then it kicks in while the black spots are still floating around the stars, and Ymir adds another injury to her mental list of damages she needs some damn sustenance to heal properly.

Krista looks furious. Tears are still glittering down her face, but there's an unmistakable expression of rage behind them. She opens her mouth, probably to yell.

Ymir gathers up the energy to cut her off through sheer force of will. "You can't tell me you think you have a prayer of staying alive with the Survey Corps. The whole reason you even joined up—"

"And you think going with them will make a difference?" Krista flings her arm off in the direction Reiner's probably still visible in. "Even if it did, they're—they're enemies of mankind! You can't tell me my life is worth siding with them!"

"It is to me!"

Silence falls. Krista stares at her. Ymir can feel her face reddening with its recovering blood supply. The hoofbeats are starting to sound more like thunder.

"And don't think that the people behind the walls are all that's left of mankind," she adds. The words come out muffled.

Krista's hand squeezes hers again, gently this time.

" _Your_ life isn't worth siding with them."

Ymir breathes out shakily. Her eyes are starting to feel uncomfortably wet. "That's my choice."

Krista glares at her, and dimly, Ymir realizes that they're still holding hands. "It isn't mine."

"You don't get a vote."

Her eyes are flashing again. "But you can kidnap me for my own good?"

Concerns about fairness are so far removed from Ymir's mind she can hardly believe she's hearing the argument. Except of course she is because this is Krista. "That sounds about right."

For a second Ymir is pretty sure that Krista is going to punch her again. But before she can, the loudest set of hoofbeats comes to an abrupt stop a meter away. Krista looks up at the horse. Ymir raises her head up enough for her eyes to catch its brethren chasing after Reiner.

The terrain's utterly flat.

Even if she manages to transform, there's no chance of beating the Survey Corps' pace. She'd give knocking Krista unconscious and hijacking the horse better odds.

"I don't know about Reiner and Bertolt being my best shot," Krista says quietly, "but right now, I'm your only one."

Ymir drags her eyes away from the people she can't honestly call comrades anymore. "What?"

Krista lets go of Ymir's hand—it twitches convulsively—and stands up with a wince. She grabs the horse's reins to keep from falling over. "If you side with them, nothing will keep the Survey Corps from killing you on sight." She's quiet for a moment. "That includes me."

She leads the horse closer and extends her sword until it tickles Ymir's throat. Her face has gone grey, but her hand is steady.

"I get a vote, Ymir, because I won't let you take me."

Ymir doesn't say anything. She looks down at the sword. That's easier than meeting Krista's eyes.

She doesn't mind death. She's been expecting to die all day, since the instant she jumped off that tower. And it was fine. Her life for Krista's. The closest she'll ever get to altruism. And it was fine. Everyone dies. At least her way meant that Krista would…

Lying on the ground with a sword to her throat is the first time the thought rings hollow.

She isn't like Krista. She can believe that doing anything possible to keep Krista alive is a good thing. She can believe, because even if there's nothing close to a smile on Krista's face right now, she was happy just seeing Ymir alive. Her smile lit up the forest. There are good people in the world, _worth_ dying for.

Ymir's not one of them.

Her eyes go back to Krista's frosty blue ones.

She won't stand being alive with Historia looking at her like that.

What a waste of a day.

She lifts her half-repaired hand to curl around Krista's. The sword dips a few centimeters.

"You going to help me up," she asks, "or are we just going to sit here until a Titan comes around?"

Krista looks at her. Ymir tilts her head as much as she can and affects a disinterested expression, watching the flurries of emotion running across her face. Slowly, the blade is pulled away and slipped silently back into its compartment. Krista kneels down next to her and pulls her upright as carefully as she can with one arm. Ymir's skull twinges painfully, but the rest of her stays in one piece.

Standing straight, or close to it, Ymir can still see the Armored Titan off in the distance. She blinks, and Krista's best shot—enemies of mankind—disappears from sight.

Next to her, Krista's arm tightens around her waist. Her soft blonde head presses against Ymir's side.

Then, very quietly, "I'm glad you're okay."


End file.
